


femoral artery

by chocolatechip



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Blood Loss, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Stab Wound, and emotionally kinda, dont we all, literally haha, pls let me know if there's anything else i need to tag bc idk lol, so good that he parents ppl who arent even his kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatechip/pseuds/chocolatechip
Summary: He can’t even run, because Bruce told the League to take better care of their identities (it was mostly directed at him). Oh yeah, and because of the giant fucking stab wound in his leg.Or: Barry gets stabbed and the Bats come to the rescue.
Relationships: Barry Allen & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197
Collections: just the dads





	femoral artery

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 1 am last night after watching the justice league movie for the first time in months
> 
> (the title is so dumb lmao it's mentioned like once in the fic pls i just couldn't think of anything else to title this lol)

Barry Allen was not a loner.

He wasn’t. He liked to be around people. He liked to talk to them and hang out with them. He didn’t understand them very well but he  _ liked _ them (and he was scared of them. Better get that out in the open now. Just add it to the ever-growing list of his fears).

People just… didn’t like  _ him. _

They thought he was annoying. Some of them, at least. And most of them (all of them) thought he talked too much. He did, he  _ does.  _ He can admit that.

The therapist he saw once (and never came back for another session) said that all of that isolation as a kid—from other kids avoiding him, bouncing around foster homes, etc—led him to become accustomed to isolation, and actively seek it out.

This, however, was not one of those times.

He knows he could probably be alone right now. Actually, he probably should be. He’s dealt with shit like this alone before. He can do it again.

...Maybe not.

His fingers grasp at the knife in his thigh and he pants. Wait, no, no, no. What did Bruce say, that one time? If you’re stabbed, don’t remove the knife? He takes it out anyway, with a disgusting squelch, and throws it at the alley wall. Hold up, maybe he should keep that. How many people can say they own a knife that they got stabbed with? (A lot of people, probably).

Of course, he visits Gotham  _ one time _ as a civilian and gets mugged in an alleyway.

He can’t even run, because Bruce told the League to take better care of their identities (it was mostly directed at him). Oh yeah, and because of the  _ giant fucking stab wound  _ in his leg.

Is he bleeding out? Can you even bleed out from a stab wound in your thigh? Probably.

He gasps and sinks against the wall. The mugger just took his wallet and stabbed him. Not cool, man. Not cool at  _ all. _ He can’t even use the comms to call Bruce because he doesn’t have his suit.

Oh wait, fuck, he has a phone.

Barry dug his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Okay, Bruce. Gotta call Bruce. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to find Bruce’s contact and hit the call button.

Bruce picks up on the second ring.

_ “Barry? I swear, if this is something unimportant—” _

“Bruce.”

_ “What? I’m a little busy at the moment” _ —there’s shouting in the background— _ “couldn’t you have just texted me?” _

“Hey, you’re the one who answered the phone,” He’s surprised at how calm he sounds. He definitely does not feel calm. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. Maybe. Being stabbed does that to you.

_ “I will hang up if you don’t get to the point.” _

“The point? That’s kinda funny, considering the situation. Puns are kind of dumb but some are funny. Wait, the point. Yeah, I kinda got stabbed?”

_ “What?! Where are you? Are you okay? Keep talking.” _

“That’s the first time someone’s ever said that to me, L-O-L. Is it weird to say L-O-L out loud? Fuck, where  _ am _ I? Not sure. I’m in Gotham right now? In some alleyway,” Barry remembers something about putting pressure on the wound and covers it with his other hand. “I can’t run.”

_ “Shit, okay. There are a lot of alleys in Gotham, but I won’t hold that against you because you’re clearly delirious right now.”  _ Rustling.  _ “I’m leaving right now to look for you. I have other people with me, so if someone else finds you, don’t panic.” _

“Am I finally going to meet your gang of birds? Robins? Is the singular Robin called a Robouse? And the plural is Robice? That’s neat. Um, I think I’m afraid of muggers now. Not like I wasn’t before, but now my fear is definitely heightened.”

_ “How long ago were you stabbed?” _

“I don’t know. Some time ago. Enough time for some blood to fall out. Oh my god, what if I never get my blood back?”

_ “You’ll get more blood. Just stay awake, okay? For the love of—just keep talking. We almost have you.” _

“‘Stay awake?’ What do you mean? I feel fine,” As soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of dizziness hit him. He leaned his head against the brick wall and tried to take deeper breaths. His arms felt heavy, so he turned his phone on speaker and dropped it in his lap. He removed his hand from the stab wound and stared at it. Yes, this is definitely blood.

_ “Keep. Talking.” _

“You sound out of breath. Are you okay? Let me guess, it’s your old age,” He closes his eyes after another wave of dizziness and nausea. “Uh, keep talking. I can do that. It’s kind of funny you’re saying that now. Tomorrow you’ll probably tell me to shut up. Or someone else will. Probably Arthur. He’s really hot—like,  _ really _ hot—but he’s a dick.”

Bruce is silent, save for the sounds of breathing and muffled-something. Barry takes that as an invitation to keep talking, like Bruce said to do (it’s strange).

“What else is there to talk about? Ohh, I have something. I do  _ not _ like getting stabbed. It’s not fun at all. I hope I’m not bleeding out. That would suck. I read something once about a major artery in the inner thigh and I don’t think I got stabbed there because I haven’t bled out yet. I do feel really dizzy, though. I think I’m going to throw up. No, I’m  _ definitely _ gonna puke.”

He doesn’t puke, but he really wants to. It would probably make the nausea and dizziness go away. Oh, never mind. That’s from the blood loss. Because he got stabbed.

_ “Barry. Barry. Are you still with me? Nightwing found you. Don’t pass out.” _

“Wow, Nightwing? He’s really cool. I think I’m gonna pass out. Sorry.”

The brick wall digs into the back of his head. It hurts. And it was  _ cold. _ His body usually runs hot so he’s not sure why he’s cold. He got stabbed. Why does he keep forgetting? He tried his best to stay conscious for Bruce.  _ Batman. _

“Hey there. I hear you got stabbed?”

Barry looks up and sees a very attractive young man hanging onto a railing. The last thing he sees before he passes out is the man drop to the ground gracefully and shove his face right by Barry’s face. If he wasn’t toeing the line between conscious and unconscious, he’d be bright red and stammering and rambling.

Then everything goes black.

When he wakes, everything is still black. Wait, no. His eyes are just closed. He doesn’t want to open them. He hasn’t felt this comfortable in a  _ long _ time and he would appreciate a nap right now.

His brain instantly jumps to alertness when he realizes that people are talking. 

“Is he awake?”

“He appears to be. Although, I think he wants to keep sleeping.”

“Dick carried him across Gotham. Sleeping is an oversimplification.”

Hasn’t Barry said something like that before?

“Thank you for helping me patch him up, Alfred.”

“Of course. I’ll go fix him something to eat for when he wakes. His metabolism must have burned through everything he had eaten earlier by now.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Literally, it seems.”

The sound of footsteps receding (Alfred walking away?). Someone sits at Barry’s bedside. He tried to pretend to sleep because he really doesn’t want to deal with people right now. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t understand them. Or how to talk to them.

“Have a good nap?”

Shit. Barry opens his eyes and eases into a sitting position. He’s in a cot. Bruce is sitting by him in a chair. Slowly, he recognizes his surroundings. He’s in the Batcave.

“What happened?” Barry asks. His mouth is dry. And so is his throat. And his stomach is growling, probably louder than he’s talking. His thigh hurts. Like, a lot.

“You called me a few hours ago. You told me that you got mugged and stabbed. Nightwing found you in an alley, sitting in a pool of blood. You blacked out. Somehow, you managed to stay completely unconscious while he carried you halfway across Gotham,” Bruce leans forward, “You also called Arthur hot.”

“Oh my god,” Barry groans. The memories were coming back to him, but he doesn’t care to actually remember them, thanks. One traumatic experience at a time, please. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I make no promises.”

“You are actually awful. Wait until I tell everyone that Batman is a huge asshole.”

“You sound just like my kids,” Bruce says. He has a fond expression on his face. 

Barry doesn’t know what to say to that, so he opts to let his mouth do the talking (ha) and his brain to shut down.

“Your kids? Like Nightwing, I assume. Just out of curiosity, how old is he? He’s gotta be, like, twenty, right? Because I don’t want to think he’s hot if he’s a minor. That’s gross. I’m also like twenty. Twenty-three. Oh my god, why did I just tell you I think your son is hot?”

“...You might still be delirious from blood loss,” Bruce said. “But I do want to talk to you about something you said while we were looking for you.”

“Oh no. I said so many stupid things,” Barry absentmindedly rubs at the bandages on his thigh, wishing he would have just  _ not _ been stabbed.

“You thought it was weird that I told you to keep talking, because you expected me to tell you to  _ stop _ talking.”

“What’s there to talk about? You guys tell me to stop talking. It’s fine, I know I talk too much. I appreciate it, actually. I don’t want to annoy you guys. I’m not sure what I would do if you guys kicked me off the League. Probably live in a warehouse again. Not complaining though, it was pretty cool.”

“Okay,” Bruce held a hand up slightly, “There’s… There is a lot to unpack there.”

“What do you mean? I already unpacked it all,” Barry picked at a thread in the cot.

“First off, why do you think we would ever kick you off the League? Where did you even get that idea? You are a valued member of the team,” Bruce said. He looks at Barry with an expression that makes him want to be a child again and curl up in Bruce’s lap and fall asleep.

“Uh. I don’t know. Kinda feel like an outcast there. Not in a cliche ‘oh no, I’m an outcast’ kind of way. Just the fact that I don’t belong there? You guys are way more powerful and capable than I am. All I can do is run fast. And,” He took a breath before continuing, “What is given can be taken away.”

Bruce is silent for a moment. Barry fidgets with the thread.

“I see. Well, think about it this way. The others and I have more experience than you do. You are  _ very _ powerful, trust me. You belong in the Justice League, or I wouldn’t have asked you to join in the first place,” Bruce says with so much conviction that Barry almost believes him (he believes that Bruce believes what he is saying. That doesn’t make it true).

“Thanks?”

“I’m not done. You don’t talk too much, and you don’t annoy us. I know you like to ramble. That’s fine,” Bruce scoots his chair closer to Barry’s cot. He squeezes Barry’s shoulder (are these tears? is Barry crying?). “Arthur is… well. He has a short temper. It’s not your fault.”

“Thanks,” Barry says again, and if his voice cracks, that’s between him and Batman.

“Ah, Master Barry, you’re awake. I made you some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a healthy smoothie with plenty of calories,” Alfred walks in with the butler-poise that Barry still isn’t used to. “I also brought you some protein bars and water.” He sets the tray on Barry’s cot.

“Alfred, if you weren’t old enough to be my grandpa, I’d marry you right now,” Half of a PB&J sandwich is in his mouth before he realizes what he said, “Um...Sorry? And thank you so much for giving me food. I love you. Not in a weird way like what I just said. I also love food. Okay, I’m going to shut up now.”

“Thank you, Master Barry. You are much more vocal about your appreciation for me than certain people.”

“I literally owe you my life.”

“Thank you, Master Bruce.”

Barry guesses that Alfred must have seen some shit in his days, because no normal person would respond to what Barry just said like that. Of course, being Batman’s butler and father figure, he definitely has.

Alfred sits next to Bruce. Barry trusts both of them (especially Alfred because of the food), but he’s overwhelmed with more than one person right now. Or all the time. Should he be taking anxiety meds? Probably.

“Barry? Are you okay?” Curse Bruce for noticing his emotions.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Barry says, swallowing a horse pill sized lump in his throat that had nothing to do with the sandwich he just ate, “It’s just, you’re a really good dad. Your kids are so lucky.”

He definitely doesn’t blink away tears.

Before Bruce can respond, he speaks again, “Speaking of your kids, where is Nightwing, anyway? I wanna thank him for taking me to the Batcave.”

“Barry, if you need anything,  _ anything,  _ you can always come to me. No matter what,” Bruce says. He lays a hand on Barry’s shoulder again (is this a fatherly touch? Barry sure as fuck does not know) and looks him in the eyes, “Just.  _ Please _ stop thirsting for my son where I can hear you. If you really want to know, he’s helping Dam—Robin with homework.”

“Cool. Hey, when can I get up? Because I’m really tired of sitting right now,” Barry isn’t sure if he wants to shrug Bruce’s hand off or lean into it. He doesn’t do either.

“You are very lucky that it wasn’t a fatal stab wound,” Alfred says, “It will take time to heal. You will have to monitor it. You don’t want the stitches to get infected.”

“I had to get stitches? Oh wow, that’s so gross. I’ve gotten stitches before but they always gross me out. Oh! Add needles to my fear list. And stab wound infections, because that sounds nasty,” Barry doesn’t want to look at Bruce or Alfred. 

But he has to, just to see if their expressions change. Or any minor body language changes. Bruce is probably regretting what he said about Barry not talking too much.

“Barry,” Bruce says.

Barry swallows again. He’s going to get yelled at now. He can feel it. “Yeah?”

Bruce gives Alfred a look, and Alfred leaves with the excuse of “I must go make sure Master Timothy and Master Jason haven’t killed each other by now.”

Having two people there  _ was _ overwhelming. But being alone with Bruce?  _ Batman? _ Who was definitely going to yell at him? Way more anxiety inducing.

“Thank you for calling me today. Thank you for not thinking that you could have dealt with it by yourself,” Bruce looks right in his eyes while he’s talking. He feels like Bruce can see everything he’s thinking, and he doesn’t like it.

But Barry  _ had _ thought that.

“Right. No problem. Being stabbed is, um, not fun?”

Before Bruce can say anything else, Barry can’t stop himself.

“I wish my dad were more like you. Oh wow, that’s an awful thing to say. Because he’s in prison. And he’s a good dad and I love him but—” He wants to shrink into the cot and die.

Bruce softens. He scoots his chair even closer and practically holds Barry in his arms. Barry allows the tension in his back to release. He allows himself to sag into Bruce’s arms.

“You’re a good kid, Barry,” Bruce’s voice rumbles through his chest, and Barry thinks this is a very good time and place to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> not pictured: dick after barry passed out: holy cheekbones batman!
> 
> I KNOW I KNOW I KNOWW this would never work!!!! the only live action dc movies i've seen are wonder woman, aquaman, and justice league. idek if there are any robins in the movie universe and even if there are it would just be dick and he'd be like 12!!!!! (the dick/barry thing came out of nowhere lmao. i just like to think that barry is a disaster bisexual who thinks that everyone is hot. bc same).
> 
> i jusdt think that bruce cant not Dad(tm). it's just part of his nature. you can't have batman without the dad part.
> 
> this is probably really ooc and i'm so sorry lol, this is my first dc fic. i usually write marvel fics. speaking of that, if barry doesnt sound right thats prob bc i'm currently writing a few peter maximoff centered fics lol (i might have a thing for speedsters. or maybe i relate to them. idk but it's a p r obl em) 
> 
> there are so many grammar mistakes!!! im sorry!! i tried to fix them up throughout the day but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. sorry for constantly switching between present and past tense lmaooooooo
> 
> okay wow this is longer than my usual end notes but uhhh idk tell me what you think? pls, i am literally begging for feedback. did i do a good job? a bad job? lemme know!! i can handle criticism (i say as i choke back tears while a teacher talks to me. yknow. back when we actually went to school. i hate online school). have a good day ily <3


End file.
